Feel like you’re on overload?

With three kids, two older parents with health issues, two jobs, and countless work and home deadlines between us, one of my fave gal pals and I were feeling stressed out to the max. So we took ourselves to a chick flick matinee. This afternoon, we (and 12 other lucky people) saw “Baby Mama” (more about the movie in my next post).

We laughed, listened, and unloaded ourselves before, during, and after the flick. And it was the BEST antidote to the overload blues ever. If you can fit it in, try it and see!

Somewhere in an alternate universe:

Dear Kids, Hubby, Dogs, Dirty Dishes, & Boss,

Please excuse Laurie from home and work today as she doesn’t feel well and is just generally burnt out.

Sincerely, Laurie

As if! But hey, it worked in third grade.

Sometimes it takes so little to make me happy. Organization freak that I am, I love the feeling I get from editing, organizing, and cleaning out my closet—and giving away that fit-for-football shoulder padded top from the early 90’s. Even better? Going shopping in my own closet and discovering a sweater I forgot about or thought I lost. But nothing beats the ultimate thrill of finding a pair of crumpled up 20 dollar bills in an old purse. 

So what spring cleaning ritual does it for you?

When you think of "frat house," what comes to mind? Animal House antics, beer pong, and toga bashes? But just as all teen girls aren’t Britney, Lindsay, and Paris wannabees, the guys—and girls—in the Greek system aren’t all 24/7 partiers majoring in sex, drugs, and Rolling Rock.

Case in point: on my son’s college campus, 548 students in 62 teams—one of which was his fraternity’s—just raised an astounding $51,303.01 for the American Cancer Society’s annual Relay for Life event, held this weekend at his school and replicated at scores of other ones throughout the year. Funding cancer research is a cause especially dear to our family—as it is to so many others around the world; both my parents died of the disease long before my kids were born, and my husband is a cancer survivor. 

So, here’s a special shout out to my son, his frat brothers, and all of his fellow college students who worked so hard to make this year’s Relay for Life so successful: thank you for your time and efforts. And now…party hearty!   

Working from home the other day, I decided to use the opportunity to cross off some of those nagging little stragglers on my To Do list in between bouts of writer's block. First, I head into our quaint little downtown to do a two-minute drop-off at a local business, only to be greeted by bumper-to-bumper traffic clogging its narrow streets. Turns out the little lane on which the office I need to visit is located is totally closed off for some heavy-duty road repair. Time to find a parking spot and maneuver through the congestion: 57 minutes. Time spent in drop off: two minutes-and-25-seconds.

That mission finally accomplished, I head back to my car and am just about to pull out of my hard-won parking space when I receive a call from my office.  I'm chatting with a colleague about where to find something on my computer when a behemoth SUV (the only kind driven by everyone-but-moi here in the ‘burbs) pulls into the space ahead of me. The driver backs up without looking and proceeds to smack (not tap) the front bumper of my teensy-by-comparison vehicle with me in it.  After disembarking, she casually saunters away without so much as a token glance in my direction.

Now here’s a scary thought. On one of his infrequent phone calls home, my college son casually mentions that his dorm room is really a mess.

Whoa. This comment really gives me pause, especially as I’ve seen firsthand his version of a “neat room” when that room was under my roof. And if that was neat, I shudder to imagine what would warrant use of the “really a mess” descriptor.

But that’s the beauty of your student attending college in another state: you don’t have to shut the door to his room to pretend it’s not there. Because you’re not there. You can’t do a casual reconnaissance even if (and that’s a big if) you wanted to. But the mental picture? Still frightening indeed. And that’s precisely why I subscribe to the “outta sight, outta mind” collegiate parenting credo.

I hate to go all Oprah’s Book Club on you—as if I had the platform to propel a book to the top of the NY Times best-seller list…and if I did, just FYI: it would be the one I’m writing) but I’m absolutely loving the book I’m reading now. Of course, as an admitted book addict (hey, it could be worse), I’m usually reading something I love at any given time, but this recommendation is parenting-related so here goes.

If you’re looking for a compelling read that touches on a hot button topic (working vs. stay-at-home moms) in a fresh way, pick up the latest book by Meg Wolitzer (one of my favorite authors): The Ten Year Nap (don't you love that title?).  Wolitzer checks in with a group of NYC moms a decade after they elect to leave their careers and stay home full-time to raise their newborns. I literally can not put it down.

Have you read it? If so, what did you think? If you haven’t, check it out and then let me know. Happy Reading! 

Here’s what I've been thinking lately as I watch my kids grow: If I do this mothering thing correctly, eventually I’ll work myself right out of a job—meaning my kids will become independent, fully functioning, and productive members of society and not, say, permanent residents on my family room couch (temporary couch crashing is, however, always an option). I’m so proud of them both, especially how they've met some recent challenges, and am happy to say it looks like they are on their way. 

Parental pink slip, here I come. Or perhaps, I'll just downsize from a full-time, hands-on mom to more of a maternal consultant. 

Note to those younger people who share my last name and DNA: Yes, I’ll still do your laundry when you’re home from college, whip up your favorite meals when you come to visit, and always, always, always be there for you for all the drama, the excitement, and everything in between. ‘Cause no matter how old you are, where you’re living, or how much taller and/or sophisticated you become, you’ll always be my babies. (Ain't that the truth, Moms?)  

Another one for the record books:

First, my daughter and I actually agree on something.

And now, my college student son returned home for a few days bringing a full suitcase of clothes and (get ready for it): no laundry for you-know-who.

If I’m dreaming, please don’t wake me up.